The Middle
by Juliet'sEmoPhase
Summary: Mr Potter realises his feelings for his good friend Mr Malfoy are more than they should be. Jane Austin AU, no smut.


Author's Note 25-09-15: Written to celebrate hitting 1,100 followers on Tumblr, and based on the Pride and Prejudice aesthetic picture set by myfatherwillhearaboutus (which you can see on my Tumblr julietsemophase under 'My FanFictions').

Trying to write like Jane Austin IS REALLY HARD! I hope I did it reasonable justice and you guys enjoy the different style.

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The Middle

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

Jane Austin. Pride and Prejudice.

The life of Harry Potter had not, unfortunately, found itself a stranger to misfortune.

As an infant, before his first words had been spoken or even first steps taken, a terrible illness had deprived him of his loving parents, spiriting them away into the next life and leaving the young boy in the care of his mother's sister and her family.

Mr and Mrs Dursley were respectable people, so nothing was to be done except show charity to their nephew, and take the boy in as their own. But in truth this was only the start of young Harry's misfortunes, as behind closed doors the family were most unkind to the poor child, reminding him continuously that their good grace was all that was standing between him and a life of poverty and hardship. Growing alongside his cousin, of equal age as Harry almost to the week, he tried his best to appreciate his relations' generosity in taking him into their modest home. However, the cruel words and sudden strikes lead him to believe that hardship was very much a part of his life no matter what his aunt and uncle liked to proclaim.

Still, throughout these sorrows, Harry was naturally of a happy disposition as much as an unwanted young man could be, and delighted in the mischief and adventure that so dominates such boys and their imaginations. As his tutoring consisted only of the lessons his cousin Dudley refused to partake in, he often found himself with time free to explore the town of Little Whinging in Surrey, and that was how one day, in his eleventh year, he had happened upon the Black estate, being rented for the summer by the family's youngest daughter and her family.

Draco Malfoy was the only son and heir to the great Malfoy name, and what a grand name it was! When first meeting the boy with fine pale hair and soft, delicate skin, Harry had asked if he was even allowed to be playing by the river, so rich and impressive were his clothes. The boy had scoffed and declared himself a Malfoy, and therefore at liberty to do and say as he pleased.

It had taken many years for Harry to ask his friend why he had wanted to secure their acquaintance, when their difference in class and standing were quite clear. Harry may have been the son of a gentleman, and his uncle and cousin gentlemen too, but he hardly dared presume an orphan in his position could entitle himself such.

Draco, or Mr Malfoy as he had grown into, scoffed when this question was finally posed, and said their wealth mattered little – they were kindred spirits. Harry had teased that was easy for him to declare, as he had all the fortune.

Mr and Mrs Malfoy were not stringent with their wealth however, resulting in much of Harry's later childhood being spent under their roof rather than his own, something his own kin were more than happy to embrace. But even then, Harry's misfortune did not leave him be for long.

As they grew into men approaching their twenties, Draco's disposition soured, and his brotherly tendencies towards Harry grew harsh and taunting, much to Harry's dismay. Draco was to attend Cambridge and study as his father had, at which point the boys parted ways on bitter words that Harry was at a loss to explain. It was as if overnight his dear friend had chosen to abandon him, to lead a life of spite purely because he was able to do so.

Harry had other friends in the social circle of the town, so he was not in the technical sense alone, but none the less he felt utterly alone now he was bereft of his closest confident, and struggled to find purpose to his day for many months.

Help was at hand though some months later, when an old friend of his father's – and coincidently a cousin of the Black family – came by the town with the militia. Lieutenant Sirius Black and his fellow officers were in need of rest and entertainment through the winter, something the folks of Little Whinging were more than happy to accommodate them with. The young ladies were most enamoured with the officers, so handsome in their red uniforms, however Harry had a very different reaction to their presence in their home. He made several firm friends amongst the younger men, feeling connected in a way he had not since Draco's departure, and when they upped and departed to Brighton for the summer Harry was happy to have been taken on as one of their own, having shown great skill at horsemanship and handling a riffle.

He thought often of Draco as the years passed, and was utterly delighted one day to receive a very heartfelt letter from his old friend, expressing his most sincere apologies for his past behaviour. Harry replied immediately, and once more the relationship was struck, with letters arriving back and forth as fast as the horses could carry them.

The Malfoys divided their time between Surrey, and their main estate in Wiltshire. The next time Harry's leave of duty coincided with their being in Little Whinging, Harry made sure to travel back and take up residence back in the house he had grown up in.

Mr and Mrs Dursley preferred to spend their months in the warmer climates of France, and now rarely called on Privet House, leaving Harry to claim it as his own, much to his delight. And so over the summer of his twenty fifth year, Harry and Draco each rediscovered the easy company of the other – the love of the same literature, the long rides through the Black estates, the weeks where they would pay social visits to friends and family across the country as a pair. It was a happiness Harry had never known, never dared hope for, a gentle and yet exciting friendship that squeezed his heart in delight.

But Harry should have been wary in his joy, knowing as he did that misfortune was incapable of leaving him be for long.

The Malfoys had a substantial staff, including many who's charge was the upkeep of the stable and it's horses. However Harry and Draco chose often to unbridle and groom their own steeds, so when they returned from their escapades the staff knew to leave the men in peace, and not intrude on their animated conversations.

As Harry stared out of the drawing room window at Privet House, he reflected bitterly that if they had not been so completely alone, he perhaps may not have acted so recklessly.

But as misfortune would have it, they _had_ been alone as Draco had began to tease Harry mercilessly on his poor riding form, knowing it to be utterly false but delighting in Harry's agitated reaction on the commentary on his unacceptable seat.

"If you would only allow me to show you," Draco had crowed, coming into Harry's stall once his own horse was made comfortable. "I assure you, you will thank me most ardently."

"I have no need of your silly nonsense," Harry had cried back, jumping aside as Draco had tried his utmost to catch him behind the legs with the light swishes of his crop. "I ride my horse with perfect ease."

"Ahh," Draco had lamented. "But where is the fun in things of 'ease' Mr Potter? We like life to be challenging, do we not?"

Harry had darted out into the centre of the stable so as not to spook his horse, and Draco had followed still in a playful mood. "That is because," Harry had said. "Life has always been a thing of ease for you, Mr Malfoy, and you crave excitement and entertainment in all corners."

Draco had nipped around and boxed Harry against the wall, a glint in his eye as he tapped Harry's thigh with the crop lightly. He had felt his breath hitch at the contact, an unnatural heat rising under his collar. "You are incorrigible," he had breathed, suddenly flush with nerves. But why! This was his good friend, a friend he had shared many a success and defeat with, a friend who had come back to him after his unfair treatment, who had begged for forgiveness and won Harry's trust back with valour.

And yet…

This sort of closeness was new and Draco had obviously been giddy with his boldness. There had been play fights for sure, but Harry had argued with himself: that was what boys did? He guessed he had always known their behaviour had sometimes crossed lines of propriety, but with no one around them to witness what harm had they done?

Harry sighed in the here and now, and pressed his closed fist against the cold glass of the window. He had been a fool, such a fool. He should have realised his affliction long before, but he had not known what to look for in order to stop it. He had not questioned the friendships he had made during his time in the army, always at such ease around the men he held dear.

If he had been presented with the prospect of a young lady at any time, he might have realised his grievous error and saved those around him from harm, but as it was he had had no point of comparison, and thought the fondness for some of his friends over others was how all young men with passion in their hearts felt.

Standing with Draco, laughing and joking together in the seclusion of the stable, he should have tempered his excitement, his thrill as they moved closer in their game. True, it was Draco who had been the one teasing with the crop, but Harry should never have let such inappropriate behaviour go so far. Draco was the one with the family name at stake: who cared what a lowly orphan did when no eyes were upon him?

Harry had always had pride in his self-sufficiency. He had never dreamed it would spiral into such selfish disregard for his friend, as in that moment when he had attempted to stop Draco's play, and seized his arm. And drawn him in close.

They had been panting from their exertion, however something had curled in Harry at the contact that had caused a stuttering in his chest like nothing he had ever felt before. His mirth slipped away and been replaced by something far more serious and confused as they stood chest to chest, eyes locked and pulses rising.

Harry had eventually come to his senses, but the damage had been done. Something ugly had risen inside him, something dark and twisted that caused him to wrench away in disgust at his behaviour, an apology stammering over and over on his lips as he fled the grounds of the Black estate, to the safety of his own home.

That had been three days ago.

He had not written to Draco, as certain as he was of his abhorrence in Harry's actions. Instead he had shut himself away in misery, contemplating these perverted stirrings that had been simmering for so long in the depths of Harry's mind, lurking in the corners where he had been oblivious to their meaning until they had escaped and the situation had become so utterly hopeless.

He had had no appetite, and despite his man Kreacher's best efforts he had refused breakfast yet again, wanting only to be alone with his thoughts as he stared out the window. He could beat this, he could fight this. All he had done was confuse himself: he needed to attend more balls, meet more eligible young ladies. Then these feelings would soon fade, he was sure.

It didn't mean he could ever salvage what he had had with Draco, but perhaps, perhaps that was for the best. Oh how turbulent his mind was with woe! He struggled to find any sort of solace. He thought maybe he would simply sit in the library for the remainder of the day – for with a book open in his lap, he could at least attempt to convince himself he was otherwise engaged.

That, however, had been when the movement at the gates to the house had caught his eye.

His breath hitched and his blood ran cold. There was no mistaking the rider, even from this distance. Not with a head of hair that fair.

Draco had taken matters into his own hand, and interpreted Harry's flight and silence as something that needed to be addressed. He turned on the spot, consumed with distress. Why could he not leave matters be! There was no good that could come of discussing what had happened, they needed to bury the event for from sight and mind!

Thoughts of the Draco of their youth filled Harry's mind, and he was quickly consumed with dread considering that maybe it was with malice that Draco had sought him out. To torment him for his sickening conduct, for the feelings that must surely have been plain on his face.

He had wanted to hold Draco, to touch him more, to feel his person pressed close against him and he was _horrified._ Surely thatwas enough? Surely Draco knew the abhorrence he now carried with him, he could not want to put Harry through any further anguish?

The sound of the door opening tore him from his reverie, and before he could formulate a clear sentence, Kreacher was striding into the room. "Mr Malfoy to see you Mr Potter."

Harry swallowed and gave a nod, but Draco was already hurrying past the threshold as Kreacher retreated, closing the door and leaving them alone again.

"Malfoy," Harry said with a nod, feeling weak at the knees. "I – I apologise for my abrupt departure the other day, I was not feeling well."

Draco sighed, and relieved himself of his hat, his gloves and his cane, resting them on the table and coming to stand near Harry behind the fire. "Harry," he said, voice ladened with concern. "I should have come sooner, I thought you would write."

He swallowed and attempted to affect nonchalance. "A headache," he said dismissively. "Nothing to fret over."

Draco's face was drawn with pity though, and he stepped closer. Harry fought the urge to step back. "I do not believe," he said, selecting his words with caution. "It was a turn of unwellness that made you flee."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but as it always had been, Draco was the one in command of the situation.

"I believe," he insisted. "I drove you away with fear."

Harry, for his part, took a shaky breath and frowned. "Fear?" he queried. What had he to fear from Draco, it was him that should be afraid of what Harry's recklessness could have done to him?

"Yes," said Draco, his smile tight and rueful. "I fear that I let my true feelings get the better of me, and whilst I believed in my arrogance they were reciprocated, I should have been more cautious in my approach, rather than rushing in only to startle you from something so unusual, that you were not prepared."

Harry regarded his beloved friend in curiosity. This was not how he had imagined this conversation progressing at all. "Draco," he whispered, his throat tight but his will determined. "I am…ashamed. My actions were wholly inappropriate and I wished to cause no slight on your good character. I plead for your forgiveness, and understand with no animosity if you wish to sever all ties with me."

Draco blinked and studied Harry in a manner that made him most uncomfortable. "Harry," he said in mild exasperation. "Why would I want to cut you from my life, you who are the most dear in the whole world to me?"

Harry tried valiantly to quash his horror, but his emotions were getting the better of him. "Because I am abominable," he rasped, unable to meet Draco's gaze. "If you knew the… _sickening_ thoughts that had run through my mind, when I, when we…"

"When you took the courage to hold me to you?" Draco supplied, which was such an astonishing interpretation Harry forget his misery and snapped his eyes back up to meet Draco's.

"Courage?"

"Yes!" Draco cried with a laugh, and smiled in that way that had always lit Harry up inside, but now it took on a more sinister application and Harry shied away from the notion. "Courage Harry. I fled from you too remember, but long before I fortified myself to show just how deep my affections lay."

"You did not flee?" Harry began to contradict, but Draco would not let him.

"When we were boys, and I became most unfair with you," he said, sadness cresting over his features. "My cruelness was born from fear, fear of how deeply I…" he steeled himself. "How deeply and surely I loved you, my dearest and most cherished Harry."

Harry took a step back, away from the fire's heat. That was not possible. "We are friends," he said stubbornly.

"Yes," said Draco kindly, with the assurance of a man who knew his mind. "I would hope I could never love someone I could not call friend first."

"I am concerned," Harry said, anger bubbling under his words. "That you speak of such love that brothers share. And I would never dismiss or belittle this love Draco, but the reason I had to abandon you was that I had stirrings in that stable of a very _different_ kind of love. The love," he said, faltering as he bit back tears. "The love that a man should feel for a _women._ I speak of something unnatural and unclean and I would _not_ taint you with it!"

He did not strive to stem the flow of tears as they sprung from his eyes, knowing his humiliation was complete, and Draco would only see him with abhorrence from now on. But his to utter surprise, Draco only stepped nearer to him, and, with tentative and shaking movement, gently took Harry's hand in his own.

Harry gasped, in fear, in shock, and stared down at the intimate connection.

"Harry," Draco said to him softly. "I know exactly of the love you speak. I have held it dear in my heart for many years, knowing it was too precious, too fragile to let the world see it lest it might harm it. But I let my actions runaway with me that day, and I saw – at least, dear God I _hope_ I saw – that you carry the same love too. Even if you did not realise it until that moment."

Harry had no words to offer, he merely remained staring at their hands, until the moment where Draco lifted his other one to hold both of Harry's, to hold them tight and secure.

"In the eyes of the law, I know this is wrong-"

"It _is_ wrong," Harry argued in disgust, but Draco did not let him deter him.

"But not in the eyes of _God_ I say it is not!" he cried, and Harry finally risked a glance up at his animated face. "God made us in his image Harry, we are perfect, just as he intended. And my love for you is as pure and natural as the love between my own mother and father, I cannot see it any other way, I will not!"

Harry was dumbfounded. Draco was really declaring that he had the same regard for him that Harry held for Draco. That he felt there was nothing _wrong_ in it! "You…love me?" he choked out.

"Most ardently," Draco replied in haste. "And I will not have you scared away again, I want to discuss…a proposal. Something I have been concocting for quite some time now."

"A proposal?" Harry repeated, feeling a fool for reusing all of Draco's own words, but his own mind was dull from tiredness and astonishment.

Draco nodded, and bid them to sit on the couch alongside each other, their hands still very much entangled. "I had to be sure, that your feelings reciprocated mine," he began. "For this is no small matter we are dealing in. So I will ask you once more Harry, are you sure of your love for me, now that you know I cherish you above all others?"

Harry gave the question grave consideration. He had felt as one with Draco since they had met, preferring his company above all others, and when they were parted it had been like a half of his own self had been devoid. He loved his temperament and his kindness, his brash wit and quiet contemplation. "I do believe," he said carefully. "That there is no other on this Earth that can make me as content and happy as you do, Draco Malfoy," he said, his body trembling at his own audacity to voice the words out loud.

Draco exhaled a gasp that could have been mistaken for a sob, and released one of Harry's hands to cup his face in such a tender motion Harry felt his own tears spring to life again. "Marriages have been formed on far less," he said, delight plain on his face.

Harry swallowed, not wanting to dash his love's hopes – not when he had just come to know that he was _indeed_ his love! But he felt reason must interfere. "We cannot marry though," he said sadly, and was confused to see Draco's delight only widen.

"You have not yet heard my proposal though," he said eagerly, so Harry nodded, his confidence unwavering and his hope kindling.

"There is a friend of my family," Draco began. "A dear friend in Wiltshire who I have known since her birth, and she is as lovely and becoming as a young lady can be."

Harry was unsure as to the direction of this plot, so he nodded again, encouraging Draco to carry on.

"Her name is Miss Astoria Greengrass, a lady of wit and musings, and she and I have always been close, like siblings you might say."

"You have not spoken of her before?" Harry addressed, confused, and was nervous to see the guilt flit across Draco's eyes.

"That is because," he said, inhaling slowly. "She and I were always considered a potential for marriage."

Harry's fingers contracted involuntarily. Surely not, he could not lose his beloved, not having only just secured him! But Draco hastily squeezed back, urging Harry to look at him once again.

"You need not fear, love," he said, smiling broader at his own daring. "There is more to my proposition yet. For Miss Greengrass and I are indeed very similar, twinned souls perhaps, as she too holds a love dear in her heart for someone as fair as her."

He watched Harry as comprehension dawned. "She…loves another woman?" he clarified, unsure if he was able to stomach such a notion. But if he and Draco were sat together, professing their hearts to one another, was it so hard to imagine two ladies doing the same? He bit his lip and swallowed. "I had no idea such creatures existed – Lord!" he cried out with a rueful laugh. "I had not known there were such creatures such as _us_ until a few days ago!"

Draco beamed at him and stroked his face, an action that sent such pleasant shivers down Harry's spine he did not wish it to ever stop. "And that I should know of such a young woman, that I should call her friend – whatever difficulties we shall face in life, I think it is fair to say that in this fate has dealt us a fair hand."

Harry shook his head. "I still do not see?"

"Miss Greengrass' beloved is a Miss Weasley, a girl apparently of such strength of character she may have struggled in any respect to find herself a husband!" His words held fondness in them, which conveyed to Harry a pleasing if not tumultuous personality. "She is the youngest of seven, all brothers before her, so her family are in no need of fortune to secure their succession, all she seeks is a comfortable lifestyle."

Harry wetted his lips and implored Draco to continue with his fervent gaze. "Go on," he added when he seemed reluctant.

"I propose two marriages, legal and as honest as they can be," he said. "So long as you agree, upon meeting your intended bride?"

"Miss Weasley?" Harry guessed, fearful, but holding on to the trust he had promised he would have in Draco.

He nodded. "If the friendship is amicable, we shall all four be married on the same day, so that in the eyes of the law all will be as it should. And then, once our affairs are in order, Astoria and I shall take our home at Malfoy Manor – my parents are far more at ease in the smaller dwellings at the Black estate, and will be glad to hand the property over." He took a long breath, nodding to himself as Harry watched on. "Within two miles of the Manor is another house in our possession, of good size, a property the family would be delighted to hand ownership over to of a respected family friend."

Harry relaxed, letting the pieces fall into place naturally rather than jump to any outlandish conclusions. "To me?" he said.

"To you," Draco confirmed happily. "But I have a feeling, that it will be no time at all before our wives are thick as thieves, and the new Mrs Malfoy will want to spend all her days with the new Mrs Potter, and in order to escape the women's chatter you will be forced to find refuge at the Manor, where we shall find solace together."

Harry leaned into the hand still softly cradling his cheek, hardly daring to believe this was happening. "Is this really possible?" he asked. That he and Draco should be allowed to live together, have the intimacy afforded to a husband and a wife. The thought of 'intimacy' made him blush unabashedly. Having asked the question he knew he would do everything in his power to _make_ this possible. He wanted everything Draco had to offer him, as wed lovers did.

Draco nodded. "Of course it is, who would dare stop us?"

"But," said Harry, unable to stop himself bringing up his next objection. "What of children?"

Draco though, did not seem to mind at all. "I am certain our wives will have the same maternal instincts as any women. And once we are settled most happily into our new lives, I am sure we can spare them a little of our affection for one night, to assure our families have heirs to their names."

Harry's eyes searched Draco's, feeling tension rise in him. He wasn't sure he could do that…but, he supposed if the friendly affection was there between them, they could maybe manage the logistics of the situation. It would aid their rouse no end after all. "This is," he said, mulling every aspect over. "Quite the scheme Mr Malfoy."

"What can I say?" he assured him, slipping his other hand around Harry's jaw. In return, Harry placed the palms of his hands very gently onto Draco's chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the layers of clothing. "I am a fool for love, Mr Potter, and have had plenty of time to find a way to make this work. Because Harry – it _must_ work, I cannot, in good conscious, let four people live out their lives in sorrow because the world is not prepared to understand their love."

Harry laughed, his face wet once again with salty tears. "I had thought I would never know love," he said. "I was not sure I could even continue to live thinking you abhorred me so."

"Never say those words again," Draco urged fiercely, moving closer. "I could no more hate you than the flower in the meadow, the warm sun in the sky. I will forever be indebted to you for letting slip your true self, for the courage you displayed, for the love and patience you have held fast to when I behaved despicably." Harry tried to protest, but Draco refused to hear him. "I did, Harry. After you feared you had dishonoured me, you were willing to spare me, to leave even though it would wrench your heart. I left too, but…" He bit his lip and shook his head, his eyes wet and creasing. "I tried my best to make you hate me first. Such was the depths of my masochism."

"I forgive you Draco," Harry pleaded. "You know I did, as soon as you reached out to me, before even. I could never hate you, I only held regret that you no longer treasured me as I did you."

Draco laughed, tears running freely down his cheeks. "I never stopped loving you," he admitted thickly. "And now, I never have to." He shook himself and released Harry, dropping to the floor on one knee. "I do not know if there is a precedent for such things Harry," he said, his voice shaking. "But there will be little honesty on our wedding day. So I would like to ask, here and now, will you marry me, will you be my husband, until death do us part?"

Harry nodded desperately. "I will Draco, I do, until death do us part."

Draco hiccupped back a sob, and rose to sit as close to Harry as he could, looping their fingers tenderly together. "Then may I have the very great honour," he whispered, nerves still making his voice tremble. "On kissing my beloved?"

Harry's skin was a flurry of goose pimples, and he could feel himself shaking in nervousness and anticipation and excitement. "Yes," he breathed, desperate to be closer, to have everything Draco was willing to offer him. "Yes, my beloved, I wish for nothing more."

Emotions fluttered across Draco's face, but the foremost of which was untold bliss. He drew Harry carefully to him, their faces tilting naturally, and Harry could feel Draco's breath ghost across his mouth. "My love," he mumbled, before the last of the distance was closed, and he shut his eyes as he felt soft lips press to his own.

It was as if his heartbeat had turned to thunder, and his entire life force had been lit on fire. Harry's hands travelled of their own accord, exploring the strong shoulders and back of the man who had just asked to be his husband, who had concocted such a scheme it bordered on illegal and yet was so ingenious Harry could not even try to fight it. He was delirious with happiness, it was not right he should be so happy!

And yet he knew, with a keen anger, that too much of his life had been denied him, that his happiness had suffered on too many occasions, and that it had been Draco who had consoled him and made him feel worthy for so many years. He was the best sum of Harry's experiences, and he would be damned to hell if he was going to let anyone take that away from him.

"You would really want me?" he asked, when they parted, breathless. "Forever?"

"Until the end of my days, Harry Potter," Draco insisted. "I shall want no other on God's green Earth."

The End


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